


Soulmates

by klykoni



Series: Soulmates [1]
Category: Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Soulmates, Solitary Confinement, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, any warnings in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klykoni/pseuds/klykoni
Summary: Atlas Molniya abandoned his soulmate almost a decade ago, ashamed to let her see the man he became. Aggie Hummel lost her soulmate almost a decade ago, a loss she still struggles to come to terms with.When Aggie suddenly finds herself on the run from the Union, circumstances bring them both together. But as secrets unravel, both Aggie and Atlas must reconcile their pasts with the present, if they have any hope of a future.





	1. An Exchanging of Words

He was fifteen when markings first began to cover his arms. It was colorful scribbles, no form, just a wild mess. Sometimes his soulmate - whoever they were - decided to go above and beyond and paint the rest of their (and by association, his) body with markers.

All attempts at conversation were derailed by them scrawling all over his words, or there simply being no available writing area for him. He wasn’t sure if they weren’t feeling chatty, a smartass, or simply too young to know how to write. He hoped that it wasn’t the latter. Platonic soulmates existed as did romantic soulmates with large age gaps, but at the moment the latter idea was repulsive (which, he considered, was the sane reaction).

* * *

Over the next few years, the scrawls became more contained and started to form coherent pictures and letters.  _Definitely a kid_. Still, he had to admit that the little pictographs reflecting little details around them (they had a thing about spiders) were endearing - and if that was the universe manipulating him he was going to find a way to fight the universe.

When letters morphed into words and sentences, as messy as they were, he started to try to talk to them - one of the first things he learned was that his soulmate was in fact a she, when she finally scrawled out her name:  _Margaret_. She was pretty bright (even with the occasional spelling error, early on she was good at sentences), already curious and asking him questions he knew he didn’t think of when he was a tyke.

Like him, she was probably perceptive enough to know he was much older than her. Unlike him, however, she wouldn’t understand the magnitude of soulmates for a while. To young kids, they were more or less friends. The idea of a stranger being a romantic option didn’t sink in until puberty or later, though that always depended on the soulmate.

It was an odd relationship they had, but one he could more or less describe as friendship (as much as one could as they were). Given how she already had difficulty with people, it seemed like she could use one.

* * *

When he was eighteen, recently graduated and about to head to flight school, he finally got up the courage to ask,  _How old are you?_

_Six. You?_

_A hundred._

_Realy?????_ (She had begun to gain an appreciation for punctuation as emphasis.)

_No._

_Oh. That would have been fun. No one else has a seulmate a hundred._

* * *

As he progressed through school, the occasional notes he had to write on his hands earned him a  _lot_  of questions. Of course, explaining half his curriculum (which included plenty of physics and math) on his arm was difficult, but she was decent at interpreting his shorthand and keeping up anyway. Impressive for a kid who had only basic arithmetic under her belt. Either that, or he was better at explaining than he thought.

But it was probably her.

When he graduated, she sent him an arm full of hearts and balloons. Normally that would have annoyed the shit out of him, but she had only so many ways to express herself and he had to give her points on enthusiasm. She had wormed her way in good to his affections.

Damn the universe.

* * *

As she advanced in her classes, skipping miles past her peers, he couldn’t help but feel proud of her. That was his kid, the genius. Unfortunately, she was also a walking disaster, skirting death from at least a few of her ideas and terrible at human interaction. Except with him, but that’s probably because she trusted him before she knew how to be anxious.

Which she was. Constantly.

He wasn’t the best with people either, so he didn’t have much in the way of advice, but he did trust in her brain, so he focused on that.

Before she was sixteen she was already learning to code (and hack, though she didn’t mention that detail much, except the one time she accidentally managed to break through the Union firewall; the rebel in him couldn’t help but be proud) and coming up with small inventions. He knew by the notes scribbled on her arm, sometimes entire schematics in miniature (he wasn’t sure she owned paper or some sort of sketch tablet some days). Given his experience with machines, he occasionally managed to give input.

_You should put the battery there. It’ll make it more compact that way._

_Oh yeah, that’s so much better. Thanks!_

_Did you put in a vent? That thing is going to overheat._

_Hubble, that’s what I was forgetting!_

* * *

She didn’t know what he did exactly, but she knew that if it involved ships it wasn’t a safe occupation. After enough weeks-long silences, she had half asked, half demanded she be kept informed.  _I like knowing you’re not dead_.

So he obliged, eventually doing it out of habit.

_I’m flying out in five minutes._

_Stay safe!_

_I haven’t died yet, have I?_

* * *

Those were the last, infamous words he sent to her. Returning from that disaster, the sole survivor, and earning an award for something he didn’t deserve broke him. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t even try, and he didn’t want to bring her down with him. He convinced himself it was better for both of them. He wasn’t the kind of person she would like - ought - to be around. Better him dead to her. Less of a chance of either of them making a stupid decision.

Truthfully, he simply wished to wash himself of his past altogether, pure and selfish. And whether or not it was right, she was a part of the history that he wanted gone.

* * *

_Atlas? It’s been weeks, you’ve got to be done now, right?_

_Come on, try to let me know something._

_Please don’t be dead._

Months later, his arm was oddly blank one morning. No notes, no reminders, no sketches. The only ink spanned his wrist in tiny letters.

_I miss you._


	2. I Used to Know an Atlas...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the universe takes matters into its own hands.

Out of habit, Margaret - who went by  _Aggie_  once she entered engineering school - continued to write notes on her arm, mostly updates on major events in her life (some not-so-major ones ended up there from time to time) and schematics. She knew Atlas was dead. After months and then years of silence, there was no way he wouldn’t have found a way to write to her if he could have. Still, she did it anyway.

Maybe it was simply a habit too ingrained in her to be worth breaking. It was how she processed things now, even if there was no one writing back.

Maybe it was because stopping would be admitting it was real, her soulmate was gone, and she had lost one of her closest - one of her only - friends. The rational part of her knew the truth, but emotionally there was a fragile part of her that couldn’t let go of the sliver of hope from simply not knowing either way.

She only knew his first name, which was not enough information to make hacking into Union records worth the headache, so there was no way to confirm his status. She had rarely spoken of him to her parents, she had no close friends besides Atlas, and no idea of what she should do. She was fifteen and had no idea how to grieve. All she knew to do was to keep pushing forward.

So she poured herself into her studies. She had contributed much of her early successes to him, from his comments and occasional bits of encouragement, and in the beginning, she doubted her abilities going solo. However, if anything she got even better (probably due to her borderline obsessing over her classes and inventions). All she needed to do was pass her exams, survive engineering school, and get a solid job at the nuclear plant, the best employer on Olympus-7. Then she could live a quiet life with a… chinchilla. Yeah, a chinchilla.

* * *

_I was accepted into engineering school! My top choice!_

_Classes are much harder than I thought._

_I will go to the gym. Maddox said it would help me relax._

_Maddox is a dirty liar and I hate myself._

_My robot won first place at nationals. *small drawing of a robot labeled “the other guy” flying through the air*_

_Ok, maybe push ups aren’t the end of the world…_

_Heat + battery = *small sketch of a mushroom cloud* Forgot a vent. Only lost my eyebrows._

_Top of my class: good. Speaking in front of everyone: bad._

_Ran three miles instead of writing speech._

_I was a rambling idiot, but I survived and graduated._

_I have a job! Good equipment, very cold. Need more sweaters._

* * *

Pelting down the hangar, she hurriedly searched for something to hide in. There was exactly one option that remained in the area that wouldn’t get her caught or shot on sight, so she swiped her tablet to hack the ship’s lock and slipped inside. She’d try to hide in… those vents looked big enough for her, then slip out at the ship’s next station. Hopefully they would dock before she died of hunger (or they heard the thunderous growling of her stomach).

She looked walked into the cockpit, still looking for some sort of entrance to her temporary hiding spot. Finding it, she pulled out a screwdriver and had just hoisted herself up to begin unscrewing the cover when she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being charged up. She froze, slowly turning towards the sound, still dangling in midair.

A grumpy man aiming a gun at her, holding a large bottle of whiskey in his other hand, was not what she had been expecting. Hacking and entering didn’t usually get a positive response, but the gun was a bit much, honestly. All she was doing was trying to sneak into their ventilation. Very benign.

“You’ve got thirty seconds to get down and explain, kid,” he growled. She let go, actually landing on her feet instead of in a pile like her usual dismount.

“Umm….” She fumbled for words. “Look, I can explain…”

* * *

The next twenty minutes were chaos, including her doing her best to save their collective butts, which actually worked out in her favor. It got her a temporary job, anyway. Grumpy would have chucked her out the airlock, but he was overruled.

“Ignore him,” said the man in red, patting her on the shoulder. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”

“How bad’s his bite?” she muttered, though not quietly enough as he laughed.

“You’re fun,” he said. “By the way, I’m Jaxon, legendary bounty hunter. Orion’s our captain, Atlas is our pilot, and Nova’s… Nova.”

“It’d be easier to keep my ship running if stowaways didn’t bring trouble with them,” he grumbled. Aggie barely processed his gibe.

“Atlas?” she asked, throat suddenly dry.

“What about me?” he snapped.

She shook her head. There were other Atlas’s that were retired Union pilots. Had to be. Her Atlas was dead. And he was a lot nicer than this one.

“Nothing,” she said softly. “I used to know an Atlas, that’s all.”


	3. A Sense of Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Aggie and Atlas are reminded of their pasts.

Her first couple weeks were… rough, so to speak. Abduction, being left in a cell in near-solitary confinement, and no food (voluntary or not) would leave a lasting impression on anyone’s psyche. 

Aggie wasn’t sure if it was noticeable to the others; sometimes she wasn’t even sure where her normal anxiety ended and the trauma began. It was little things. Noises made her jump a bit more, if they landed she stuck to the side of one of the crew (mostly Nova, occasionally Jaxon), sometime’s someone’s footsteps were just close enough to Evander’s to make her tense up. Little things.

But slowly, she readjusted. The crew was pretty good for that. Comet, plush and huggable, was even better (Jaxon was starting to pout that it preferred her over him now). 

It was a new normal for her, but it wasn’t a  _bad_  new normal. She had more freedom to invent (well… when Atlas wasn’t being grumpy about it), finally got to step on a planet for the first time, see things she had only read about and heard her Atlas talk about sometimes when she had pestered him enough.

Things were good.

… Mostly good.

The only issue she had on a regular basis was Atlas. Namely, how much he reminded her of  _her_  Atlas. It wasn’t all the time, but sometimes he would say something, crack a snarky joke, and she’d feel a pang, a sharp souring of her stomach.

How she had felt about her Atlas had been complicated, one of the only things she had never been able to talk to him about. She’d grown up with him as a friend and a mentor and definitely much older than her, but she had begun to be unsure where the line was and where she stood. She loved him, she knew that much, but had it been platonic? Romantic? They were soulmates, but that could mean anything. Sometimes soulmates meant you ended up with a blood feud. The universe was weird like that.

But now, with this Atlas, the questions she had left alone since her Atlas’s death were coming up again. Because she wasn’t sure if she was projecting her latent romantic ( _sexual???_ ) feelings of her Atlas on him or these were entirely organic, but he made her  _confused_. Of course, she kept them to herself (beyond a few poorly thought out sentences and a spontaneous hug, which, in her defense, she had done mostly because she had been kept in solitary confinement). She didn’t have any doubt how he’d respond.

The only good thing about him reminding her of her Atlas was that she started to regain some of the snark she had learned from him. She wouldn’t have dared to do it, but he brought it out of her in moments where she’d forget she had a filter and impulsively gave him a snarky comment of her own. Eventually, she figured out Jaxon was right, his bark was worse than his bite, and she gained more confidence. 

Sometimes she could even see the hint of a smile slip past his scowl for a brief second when she had a particularly good retort ready.

* * *

He would deny it if ever questioned, but to himself (and her exactly one time), he had to admit keeping her on wasn’t the worst choice he ever made. Even if it did result in denting his lady.

Aggie had surprised him. She had been timid at first, naive and gullible as a baby, but the kid eventually learned to hold her own (and figured out when he was being sarcastic, which was most of the time), which he originally had thought was a good thing.

Unfortunately, that confidence meant she no longer held herself back when arguing with him.

“We’ll double efficiency of the motor if we add a transistor here and here,” she said, pointing to a schematic that she had dragged out of storage. “We’d save hundreds of credits a month on fuel.”

“No,” he growled back. “It’ll bog the system down and we’ll lose any gains we achieve.”

She huffed. “You -” she snapped, too annoyed to even finish (probably wise of her). “Where’s a pen?” she asked sharply, digging around his tool bag. She had gone months without one and he wasn’t sure why she needed one. They had tablets for sketching.

“Hey!” He grabbed her arm before she got everything mixed up. “I’ll go get you a pen.”

It was obtained from his desk, and handed over with a sharp, “thank you” in return. She pulled up her sleeve and started to draw shapes, adding words here and there.

“We have paper, you know,” he said dryly.

“I know,” she replied. “But I think best when I start on my arm.”

“Doesn’t that annoy your soulmate?”

She paused. “No. He used to help me with my inventions, actually.” She had her head bent, turned away from him, but he knew her well enough to hear the sudden thickness in her voice.

“Used to?”

She finally looked up and gave him a sad smile, blinking back a few tears. “He… died. A few years ago. So no, he doesn’t mind.” She laughed, a small sniffle escaping. “You know, his name was Atlas too.  _And_  he was a Union pilot! I mean, what are the odds that I’d meet two of you?”

If she had been looking up or less engrossed in her sketch, she would have heard him take in a sharp breath and briefly gape at her. For once, he was grateful for their engineer’s scatterbrain.

“Anyways,” she said, regaining her spark, eyes now free of tears. “You’re thinking of an old model of transistor. Big, bulky, a pain. I was talking about the type of modified transistor we use in the lab back home. It was maybe a few ounces, and can handle anything that motor can throw at it.” She added a few more lines and an arrow, attaching the phrase  _here is why you’re wrong_  to the tail.

He was barely focusing on that. He may have gotten control of his external emotions, but his mind was roiling with conflicting emotions.

* * *

He knew Margaret had kept to writing on her arms. For a while he looked, but the temptation to break his silence - the itch to tell her how to fix that one problem or congratulating her the day she had graduated at the top of her class (that one was especially hard) - grew to be a problem. So he bought a replacement for his old jacket and never took it off unless he had to, which he made sure was never in front of others. As far as the crew knew, he had no soulmate.

He eventually developed the habit of not even glancing at his arms, and if he did he trained himself to see the markings like a birthmark. There, but nothing worth noting. 

He had noticed she had gone silent for quite a while, but sometimes she did (probably when she had lost inspiration; even when they talked she’d have bouts of silence as she stewed in her funk). The fact that it had coincided around the same time as they had added an engineer to their ranks was a connection he hadn’t made.

He spent the rest of the day half dazed. He eventually gave in to her demands just so he could get away. He hadn’t taken off his jacket, hadn’t pulled up the sleeves, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to look.

But he couldn’t avoid it forever, so with his heart thumping in his chest, he slowly slipped his jacket and shirt off his arms.

On his forearm, faded from her shower, was an exact replica of her transistor schematic,  _here is why you’re wrong_  and all.

Despite his best efforts, his past had come to bite him in the ass.


	4. A Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Aggie's birthday and Atlas gives her a present.

It changed nothing. She had seen the signs, but couldn’t connect the dots. He never wrote on himself, a habit by now. His bomber never came off in front of her. There was no reason to change anything. She was better off not knowing, and he was better off without a soulmate.

Still, as months passed, dodging death a few times together, her breaking open all the features on the Promise with dizzying speed and helping him with repairs and upgrades, it began to resurface the old affection he had for her when she was younger.

Except now she wasn’t some slip of a kid, whether or not he wanted to admit it, something Jaxon’s casual flirting made him all too aware of some days. It was Jaxon’s reputation that made him both annoyed and pissed when he got in Aggie’s personal space or made a suggestive comment, however mild. It was concern for her, that was all. If she was going to be on his ship, he might as well keep an eye on her.

* * *

Her 23rd birthday passed without any fanfare, or it would have except Jaxon noticed her ID’s declared birth date (they were at an almost reputable bar for once, which was probably why she got carded).

“You didn’t tell us it was your birthday today,” he said, sounding shocked.

She shrugged. “I haven’t been paying attention to the dates recently. We’ve been too busy. Anyways,” she added, “back at home birthdays aren’t a big deal.”

“Well, it’s a chance for free drinks on my colony,” Jaxon said, signaling to the bartender, who walked over to them. “You only turn 23 once!”

“Which is true of every birthday, dumbass,” Atlas growled, nursing his whiskey. Aggie noticed he looked even more sullen than he usually did, especially with a whiskey in his hand.

“Semantics,” Jaxon said, waving him off. He turned to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve been working hard, Ags, take a load off.”

Her tolerance was passable, but she also had no interest in getting hammered. Not when Atlas was around to hear her say something stupid. She could do that just fine stone cold sober. “If you’re buying, I’ll take  _one_  more Borealis,” she said, smiling at Jaxon. He returned it with his usual smirk, which would have been flirtatious if it had been directed at anyone except her.

It had taken her some time to figure out how to interact with Jaxon, but now he was the one she depended on to keep things from becoming so serious she went insane. Beyond that, she eventually realized he was just as touched starved as she was, which meant they quickly lost a lot of physical barriers that the rest of the crew maintained. It was not uncommon now to find both of them on the couch, Aggie working while Jaxon napped, his head on her shoulder, or vice versa.

“I told you you’d let me buy you a drink one of these days,” he teased, squeezing her shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed, giving him a light shove. It did exactly nothing to move him.

Atlas growled again, putting down his empty glass and shoving away from the bar, grumbling about returning to the ship to check on… something. She tried, but couldn’t decipher what he was saying. Given the rest of the crew’s confused looks, she wasn’t the only one.

Jaxon shrugged. “So long as I’m here, it’s still a party,” he said, handing over the ethereal drink, blue, green, and purple swirling together in mesmerizing patterns in the glass.

“Keep telling yourself that, Jaxon,” she said, which he laughed at.

She did her best to enjoy herself, but occasionally worry niggled in the back of her mind. Why had Atlas left early, and why did he look so pissed off? But she shrugged those thoughts away. If he wanted to be grumpy, it wasn’t on her to worry about him.

* * *

They didn’t linger too much longer at the bar, Orion insisting on an early departure the next morning. Aggie was grateful, exhausted even though they were only out an extra hour at most. But it was a good sort of exhaustion.

 _It was too bad Atlas couldn’t be there_ , she thought.

She yawned, but despite the call of sleep she went to say goodnight to him. After checking to see if the light was on, she knocked on the door, quietly calling out, “Atlas? I just wanted to say -” she was interrupted by a large yawn - “ni-”

The doors slid open unexpectedly and even though she hadn’t been leaning on anything, she still stumbled forward in her shock. Someone caught her, and she found herself cradled in strong arms.  _Very… nice… warm arms - will you shut up self?!_

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her face currently pressed against Atlas’s chest.

“Will you just stand up on your own?” he asked, sounding irritated. “Before we both die of old age?”

“Sorry,” she said, not able to hide all the sullenness from her voice. He could have a little more patience. Quickly, she got herself back on her feet. “There.”

“What did you want, kid?” he asked, still looking unamused.

“I just wanted to say goodnight, that’s all,” she said. “I’ll leave you to sleep.” 

She beat a hasty retreat, but didn’t get very far before she heard him call out, “Wait, kid.”

Turning around, still apprehensive, she slowly shuffled back.

“Here.”

He unceremoniously dumped a brown paper-wrapped package in her arms, the crackling noises almost deafening in the quiet hallway.

Unsure of what to do, she just stood there awkwardly.  _Do I open it now?_

“Well?” he asked, sounding less and less patient with every syllable. She took it to mean she was indeed supposed to open the package.

“Oh.” She juggled it as best she could, working to untie the string (a very old style of wrapping - she shouldn’t have been surprised, given who was giving it to her). The paper fell to the floor to reveal a black and green jacket, matching the same style as her jumper and leggings. “Oh, Atlas!” she said, brain perking up a bit and beaming up at him, hugging it to her chest.

“Figured you should finally match the rest of the crew,” he said.

She quickly donned it, burrowing her head into the collar until only her eyes peeked out, mostly to hide her rising blush. “It’s lovely,” she murmured through the plush lining. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Now go to bed.”

“Night,” she said, waving as she jogged off to her room.

She wasn’t sure how birthdays were normally celebrated in other parts of the galaxy, but she quite liked this one. She got to relax with the crew, have a couple of drinks, and even got a gift from Atlas. He must have been planning on giving the jacket to her later, but it was rather lucky of him that he had it wrapped and ready to give her on her birthday, despite him not even knowing the date.  _What are the odds?_

* * *

Aggie looked down at her fingers, drenched in ink. Pearl’s writing utensil had malfunctioned and splattered her all over. “Fantastic,” she muttered. She got up from her chair, turning to Atlas, who was sitting in his pilot seat.

“Hey, I’ve got to go -” She abruptly froze, the air forcibly punched from her lungs in shock.

Covering his hands, identical to her’s down to the last speck, were black ink stains. Her mind raced, everything that she knew about him combining to make one giant, horrible lie she had been fed for months.

“There’s… there’s no way…” she said, her voice trembling.  _How could I have been so oblivious?_

Her world had been shaken a few times before, most of them occurring after she had joined the Promise crew. Escaping arrest, being arrested, dodging a bomb, shooting a  _lot_  of people, nearly blowing up a building. That shook her. Only once had her world ever truly collapsed from under her: the day she realized her soulmate was never going to write back.

But this… this was beyond mere collapse. This was an implosion - the type of silent, catastrophic implosion that turns giant stars to black holes.


	5. Betrayal Too Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie learns the truth and everyone deals with the aftermath.

“Y-you -” Aggie could barely form words. She was feeling so much all at once. “You were alive this whole time?! And you let me believe you were dead?!” she yelled, forcing her tears back.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Those weren’t the questions she needed answers to. The stains on his hands were damning enough. But after so many years of silently wondering, they spilled out.

She couldn’t hold back the tears now, choking on any other words she might have said. Overwhelmed, she rushed out of the room to cry her eyes out into her pillow.

* * *

Just as the tears dried up, she heard her door open and shut. “Get out -” she started to yell, but stopped as she realized it was Comet. “Oh,” she said, sniffling. “Hey, Comet. I don’t have any cereal right now.”

It hopped up to her bed, settling next to her and nuzzling her face. Soft, silky fur felt nice against her burning cheeks, sticky from her tears. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Thanks.”

It pulled back enough to look at her, tilting its head in curiosity. “I thought my soulmate was dead for years, but it was Atlas the whole time,” she said, scratching its chin absentmindedly. “He lied to me. Why would he do that?“ Her eyes filled with tears. It let out a sad little chirrup and gently licked off the tears that fell on her cheeks, before burrowing into her stomach as though trying to squash her sadness and pain. The pressure and holding it tight did help soften it some, though she still felt it acutely, a throbbing ache rather than a stabbing pain now.

She sighed softly. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

* * *

She hid in her room for the rest of the day, which meant even if the rest of the crew hadn’t heard her yelling before, they knew something was wrong now.

Normally when she was holed up in her room (due to napping or being engrossed in designing or reading) and they were having dinner as a group, someone would come get her. This time, Jaxon came to her with a warm plate of food in hand and a hesitant smile. He didn’t pry, just gave her a strong hug that she realized she desperately needed and left her in peace.

Comet followed soon after, balancing a bowl of cereal on its head. They ate their respective dinners together, Aggie occasionally giving it a scratch behind the ear.

Done with their meals, she set the plate and bowl on her bedside table and leaned back into her pillows. Comet climbed onto her stomach, curled up, and looked ready for bed. She gently stroked down its head and back, occasionally tickling one of its head-nubs, mentally going over her options.

She sighed. “As much as I hate it, I don’t think I have any other choice…”

* * *

As much as she wanted to avoid Atlas and this conversation, it needed to be done before anything else. So that night, once she heard everyone go to their bedrooms, she snuck over to his door, though her heart still sank when she saw his light was on. She was going to do it, but Hubble she didn’t  _want_  to. What she wanted to do was hide under her covers and never emerge.

But she’d face this head on because she knew if she didn’t get answers, she’d obsess over every possible reason until she went crazy. He owed her that much.

Quietly, she knocked on his door. Unsure if she had been loud enough, she was just raising her hand to knock again when it slid open. Holding back a startled jump, Aggie entered, seeing him at his desk tinkering with some old device.

“Yes?” he asked. She couldn’t sense any emotion from him, even more distant than when she first arrived. It only intensified the mess of emotions she was barely keeping a lid on.  _Keep it together, Aggie. Be concise, be clear, get out, scream later._

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to keep her face impassive. She couldn’t tell how successful it was, but not bursting into tears was a win.

“Did you know?” she asked.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t make the connection at first, but eventually, yes.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

Now he was looking at her, not quite glaring, but definitely unhappy. “I didn’t see a point.”

“Bullshit,” she spat, surprising even herself.

“What did you expect, kid? After this long, did you honestly think you being here would change anything?” He stood up to face her. “I did what I had to do.”

“That’s not an explanation!”

“Well, that’s all the explanation you’re going to get,” he growled.

“No! You’re going to look me in the eye and tell me why you decided to ignore my existence for seven years!” So much for keeping her emotions in check. She wasn’t crying, but she was ready to scream long and hard.

They were practically in each other's faces now, but Aggie wasn’t going to back down. For once, her anxiety was overpowered by her hurt, her anger, her pain. Before, she would have wilted, but she had learned that she could push back. And so she did. 

“Why do you care?”

“Because you owe me that much!” she yelled, holding in a sob. “Because I at least deserve to know  _why_  you put me through seven years of hell!” Her voice started to crack.

“Fine then. You know why I ignored you? Because after that mission, I wanted nothing to do with my past.”  _His last flight._ “I wanted it gone.“

“You wanted  _me_ gone,” she said, another blow hitting her heart.

“It was better for both of us,” he said, which just added to her anger.

“You didn’t have the right to make that choice for me -”

“Look at me, Margaret!” Hearing him say her name, the name she had shed after his ‘death’, made her start and cut off any response. He grabbed his flask and shook it at her. “Do you think it would have been a good idea for you to be around someone like me? That it would have worked out? We were better off without each other.” His voice was hard and unyielding.

_He really believes that…_

At that realization, all the fight left her. She lost all her rage, the urge to cry, everything. She just felt… empty. “I see,” she said flatly, slowly moving back to the door. He didn’t make a move to stop her or say anything else. He just watched her, face an unreadable mask again.

She paused at the doorway, hand against the side. “I hope it was worth it,” she said quietly. “Good night, Atlas.” He didn’t respond.

Once she got to her room, she sat down on her bed. Alone, emotion welled up inside her and she had to press her face against her pillow to muffle her sobs.

* * *

The next morning, she went to Orion’s quarters and knocked. He let her in, still adjusting his shirt.

Before he could ask her why she was there, she blurted out, “I’m done.”

Confusion crossed his face before it shifted to his usual impassive expression. “I’m sorry?” he asked.

“I’m done,” she repeated. “I want to leave.”

* * *

She had a cousin that lived on Vanda, a planet not controlled by either the Union or Empire. They owned a mechanic shop, so she had been offered a place there.

That was more or less the explanation Orion gave after setting the course. While everyone had an idea of why she was leaving, only Aggie and Atlas knew everything, and it seemed both of them wanted it to stay that way.

When Jaxon entered her room as she was packing, she expected him to argue that she should stay or ask her for an explanation, but he said nothing, only coming to help her pack what few possessions she had. Once they were done, he wrapped her in a warm hug that threatened more waterworks.

Ever the stoic one, Nova did and said nothing, but gave her a brief nod of understanding and a gentle smile when she walked onto the bridge with her things.  _Right. Empath_.

Atlas didn’t spare her a glance, face impassive and focused on their trip. It seemed he was good on his word he wanted nothing else to do with her now that she knew.

She did her best to breathe in deep, her chest now starting to throb.  _Is this what a broken heart feels like?_

Once they landed, her goodbyes were brief: a quick hug for Nova and Orion, then one from Jaxon that nearly broke a rib. Comet had latched on to her back the moment Orion had announced their destination, and it took the combined efforts of her and Jaxon to pry it off. It didn’t even make any noise, just looked at her with heartbroken eyes from Jaxon’s arms. Giving it a small scratch under the chin, she whispered, “Be good, Comet.”

To Atlas, the only thing she could manage was a hushed “goodbye” without her voice failing. He gave her a gruff “goodbye” in return. 

The throbbing intensified, and she quickly left for her waiting cousin before they could see her tears.

* * *

“Hey,” Alex said, giving her a hug after she got in the car.

“Hey,” she replied halfheartedly. “Thanks for taking me in.”

They started up the car, pulling them out of the spaceport and onto a lonely back road. “I mean, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take advantage of having a genius engineer in my shop. I’ve had customers asking for years for custom parts, and the guy we commissioned practically robbed us.  _Robbed me_ , Ags.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, but she was barely concentrating on their words.

“Hey,” they said, getting her attention with a hand on her knee. “He’s an asshole and you deserve way better than that.”

“I want to believe you,” she whispered, her voice raw from the dam of unshed tears she had been holding back.

“It’s more of a take-at-your-own-pace kind of thing,” they said, pulling over to the side of the road. “But for now, let it out. C'mere.” They pulled her into a hug, and no longer worried about the crew seeing her, she let herself cry for everything she had lost.


	6. The Old-New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie adjusts to life on Vanda.

Life on Vanda was… normal. Like old normal. Except now that normal was too quiet for comfort. She had begun to jump at any unexpected noise again, and sometimes the shop would make a loud bang that would leave her heart racing and hands shaking, sometimes for hours after. Nightmares left her gasping for air and sweating so hard she’d have to change her night clothes before going back to sleep. Her sleep had suffered in the beginning, but slowly the nightmares stopped coming as often. Now she was going three, four, sometimes five days between nightmares, occasionally managing to get through an entire week before the next one.

What was truly suffering was her creativity. The entire crew admired her custom-designed parts (many coming to her for help on their personal projects), but she knew she wasn’t at her full potential. She couldn’t bring herself to draw on her arm anymore, no matter how helpful it would have been, wearing some form of sleeves at all times. She needed to cut that dependency off. If he wanted nothing to do with her, she’d have nothing to do with him.

She was getting a lot more attention than she was used to, clients wanting to speak to her personally rather than go through their mechanic. Before, no one had paid attention to the quiet little engineer that talked more to her inventions than people. At least, not before she joined the Promise. Now, suddenly rather than four people who saw worth in her designs, there were dozens. It made her head spin just thinking about it.

Unfortunately, it also led to her gaining a small group of admirers, which just exacerbated the aching hole in her chest. Alex looked out for her, though, and personally threatened anyone who didn’t listen after her first timid “no”.

Her life wasn’t bad. Honestly, it was pretty close to her aspirations when she was fresh out of engineering school. But she had been thrown bodily into a crazy adventure, and she  _liked_  who she had become. Now, knowing what she was missing, her life felt lackluster, dissatisfying.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to see the crew, her family, unlock more of the Promise’s secrets, and just be  _Aggie_ again. She had left most of herself back on the Promise and she wanted  _that_ back more than anything else.

But she couldn’t go back for her sanity’s sake. As things were, as Atlas was, staying wasn’t an option. She couldn’t heal there. Her misery there far outweighed her unhappiness now.

The only silver lining was that she didn’t feel any guilt for leaving. Leaving may have been her choice, but what choices were she given in the end? She had to force herself to stop thinking about it, as when she did rage overpowered any other emotion and all rational thought.

The anger came in waves, but she couldn’t hold on to it for long when it did. It just made everything hurt worse.

* * *

One of the few bright spots she had was occasional video calls with Jaxon. It gave her a tiny lifeline back to her old life and was something to look forward to after a long day. They were usually kept short, given the unpredictability of his schedule (and whatever the time difference was, which varied wildly from call to call), but she didn’t care. The fact that he took time at all for her mattered to her just as much as the actual call. They usually talked about her inventions or Comet (mostly Comet). The crew and their jobs were never discussed.

“Hubble, Jaxon, what did you do to your face?!” Except for the times when it really couldn’t be avoided.

“Relax, Aggie, you should see the other guy,” he said, though his smirk was ruined somewhat by the cut running down his cheek to his lip, making him wince in pain and revert to a more neutral expression. At her glare, he held up a hand. “I promise, I’m fine. Everyone is fine, we just had a guy who didn’t like the light cuffs.”

“Shocking,” she said dryly. “Nothing traumatic?”

“Just some bruising and scrapes,” he said. “Hey, maybe this’ll scar.” He pointed to the cut above his lip. “Ladies love scars.”

“Yes, yes, another thing to add to your title. Jaxon Silva, Legendary  _Sexy_ Bounty Hunter.”

“Now we’re on the same page,” he said, laughing. “Though I would argue that it was already implied.” He gestured to himself.

She made a noncommittal noise, though she was chuckling as well. “Ah, yes, my mistake.”

“I mean-” He was cut off by the sudden appearance of a large, fuzzy space chinchilla.

“Comet!” she exclaimed. It preened from her attention.

“Oof,” she heard Jaxon groan. “Comet, you’re sitting on my lungs. Get off!” A hand pushed it away so that Jaxon’s face was back in the screen too.

“No, no,” she said, waving her hand to the left. “I liked the way it was before.”

“Why is it the favorite?” he pouted.

“You’re just not as cute,” she said, shrugging. “Sorry, the universe decided this, not me.” She had to practically stop breathing to hide her laughter, but her shoulders still shook slightly.

“You are a cruel, cruel woman, Agatha,” he said, pouting.

“Still not my name,” she said.

“Yeah, but it annoys you,” he replied.

“You’re impossible.” She rolled her eyes, before turning back to Comet. “How are you, Comet?”

Surprisingly, its ears shot up and it glared at her, stomping its feet and making a weird sort of noise that was what she imagined a cat’s purr mixed with gravel would sound like.

“What’s up with Comet?” she asked, frowning.

Jaxon put his hand on Comet’s head, trying to calm it down. “It misses you,” he said.

Shoulders sagging, she put the screen down and rested her arms on the counter, putting her head in them so that she was back to eye level with the camera. “Yeah… I miss you too, Comet.” She tried to hide a sniffle. “I miss all of you.”

“We miss you too,” he said, looking as glum as she felt.

“I’m sorry, Comet, but I can’t come back,” she said, returning her attention to it. “Not now.”

It stopped stomping and deflated, ears drooping almost to touch the bed. It let out a low, sad rumble, which really threatened the waterworks.

“Hey,” she said, pulling herself together. “When you come to Vanda next, you can come visit the shop. You can check out some of my prototypes.”

Its ears perked up slightly at this, rumbles becoming more curious sounding.

“Yeah,” she continued. “And I’m sure Alex will let you break into their cereal stores.”

Now it was chirping in happiness, tugging on Jaxon’s arm and bouncing in and out of the screen excitedly, which made her laugh. “Great, now its going to pester me until we do it.”

She giggled. “Well if you manage it, let me know so Alex can pick Comet up.”

“What, I’m not invited?” he asked, pretending to pout again.

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head and grinning.

“You-” He was cut off as he looked up in the direction of his door. “Sorry, Aggie, we arrived earlier than I thought.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It was good to talk to you.”

“Same.”

“Stay safe.”

“I haven’t died yet, have I?” He turned off his end, so he didn’t see her gasp for air and nearly burst into tears. She worked to calm herself down.  _He didn’t know. He doesn’t know. It’s… fine._

Still, her chest throbbed for hours after that call.


	7. Return of the Garbage Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie meets an old enemy and Atlas receives a message.

Absorbed in designing after clients left, Aggie usually was the one to close up the shop. She liked the silence. Occasionally it rained, pattering on the metal roof as a soothing background noise, her pen making large sweeps and tiny marks on the pad in front of her. Tonight, a new turbo booster for a client’s starship was starting to take form.

She took a sip of her coffee, grimacing as she realized it was stone cold.  _How long have I been here?_  She looked up and saw it was almost midnight.  _Well, at least it’s only a five minute walk to Alex’s place._  She definitely didn’t  _like_  to walk in the dark alone, but if she started to panic she could always call Alex and they’d come walk with her.

She was just finishing up her last design and shutting down her tablet, when she heard footsteps. Her body seized in fear. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was. She had never forgotten that sound, not even two years later.

She looked up, feeling the blood drain from her face at the sight of Evander and a group of Union soldiers standing at the door.

Eyes darting to the door to the main part of the garage, she grabbed a pen lying on the table and sprinted out. The lock wouldn’t hold them for long and she knew she wouldn’t escape, but she needed to buy herself just a couple of seconds. Her hands shaking, she almost dropped it as she heard glass shattering, but managed to scrawl the beginnings of a messagebefore her arm was grabbed and the pen ripped from her hand.

“Oh no, none of that, Hummel,” Evander said, sneering down at her. She felt her stomach drop, old fear welling up inside. It threatened to suffocate what little hope her message had given her.

_Please Atlas, I need you. Don’t let me down._

* * *

Atlas sat in his seat, staring at the vast expanse of the galaxy out the viewfinder, trying to ignore the big, loud, stupid part of his brain that kept reminding him of his terrible life choices up to this point. He didn’t need it. Given her silence, he was sure Aggie would prefer he stay out of her life completely, so it wasn’t like he could try to make amends. The best thing he could do was leave her alone and let her get on with her life.

He had been right. She was better off without him. At least now she was seeing it too.

He was just finishing his last glass of whiskey of the night, when he suddenly felt a burning-itching sensation on his forearm. Immediately he was taken back to the early days of talking to Aggie (or, since she was three and couldn’t read or write, letting her color all over his body). Over time, he had adjusted to the feeling until he didn’t even notice it. But after months without it, he could feel every prickle acutely.

He ripped off his glove, nearly tearing his jacket sleeve in his rush to push it up.

There, on his forearm, in bold, wobbly letters, was the word  _HELP_  and under it  _EVAN_ , with the tail of the N dragging off to the side.

His heart jumped into his throat. There had only been a few times before in his life when fear had overcome every other emotion. This surpassed every single one of them. They had left her on Vanda believing she’d be safe from Evander - they never would have let her go otherwise - but somehow he found her anyway.

_No. Not my girl._

His grip tightened on his joystick. He was not a good man. He had made some irredeemable life choices, especially where Aggie was involved. He had failed her countless times when she needed him.

But she needed him now, and for once he wasn’t going to let her down.

So quickly the crew had no chance to be warned, he thrust the Promise to her top speed, feeling his body press into the back of his seat. He heard a giant  _crash_  behind him. Probably the jukebox falling over.

“What the hell, Atlas?!” Jaxon yelled, struggling forward with Nova and Orion right behind him. He grunted as he tried to fight his way over to his console. Comet was clutching his leg for dear life, looking miserable.

Slightly more cool-headed though still not happy, Orion managed to get to his seat before turning to him. “You’d better have a good reason for this.”

Atlas didn’t even reply, just held out his arm for Orion to see. His eyes widened at the message.

“You don’t mean…”

“Evander got her,” he growled.

“What?!” Jaxon came up behind his seat, looking at the message for himself. “But I thought Vanda was safe for her.”

“Apparently not,” he said.

“I assume we have a plan?” Nova asked.

“We’ll figure one out along the way,” he replied.

“Along the way?!” Jaxon looked at him like he was crazy. “Do you even know where she is?”

“No, but I have a good idea of where they’re taking her,” he said, already working on punching in coordinates for his best guess. “Strap in and get comfortable. We’ll be in the inner systems in five hours.” He hoped for her sake he was on the mark. Last time she hadn’t come out in the best shape, and he bet this time wouldn't be any better.


	8. Don't Give Up on Us Yet, Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie suffers alone and it begins to take its toll on her sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> Most of the chapter is Aggie stuck in prison and how it affects her. I did do research on the impact of solitary confinement on people’s mental state, as well as the impacts of an extended bout of hunger. I then used my best judgement to determine how Aggie (who had gone through a similar event before and also already has anxiety) would handle this sort of thing. If you feel I missed the mark or could have done things differently, please let me know.
> 
> Mostly it involves hallucinations, as well as symptoms of severe anxiety (unable to eat, drastic mood swings). If you feel this might be triggering to you, I added three section splits to where I personally felt the trigger warning was no longer applicable.

Without windows and no rhyme or reason to meal times, time became meaningless and hours began to blur together for Aggie. She might have been there for a few days or a month for all she knew.

She was being held in a cell without human contact except when someone shoved a tray into her cell or the rare occasion Evander graced her with his presence. Her guards remained out of sight and barely spoke, so they hardly counted. 

She wasn’t even sure this was about Pearl anymore. They had asked her about her tiny spiderbot initially, but when she held no useful answers for them they had stopped dragging her out. She was telling the truth when she told them she had no idea where she was. She had left her on the Promise, the best choice for protecting her creation just in case this very scenario happened.

The only silver lining is that they didn't seem all that rushed to execute her.

She spent most of her time early on obsessively pacing her tiny cell when she had energy, and counting each hexagon in the forcefield when she didn’t. Last time she had been here, she hadn’t been this bad. Her anxiety had gotten worse, but not like this. Now it wasn’t even voluntary rejection of food. She couldn’t keep anything down. At least her body allowed her tiny sips of water on occasion, but that was about it.

Lack of food and solitary confinement led to a quick deterioration. She started hallucinating, seeing things out of the corner of her eye, and her mood could swing from hysterical laughter to sobbing fits to seething rage in the blink of an eye. 

In her calmer moments, she could hear the guards near her, muttering.

_Great, we’re stuck guarding a nutcase._

_Evander thinks_ she’s _a threat?_

_Almost’d feel sorry for the kid if she wasn’t Empire._

* * *

Eventually, her hallucinations changed so she saw real figures. Sometimes it was Alex or her parents. Most often, though, it was the Promise crew. Usually, Jaxon was the one that showed up, cracking some sort of joke that made her smile weakly. Sometimes Comet was on his shoulder and it would hop off to settle on her stomach, though she felt none of its weight. On occasion, it would be Orion or Nova. Those usually were closer to memories of conversations she had with them, Promise furniture forming as needed.

Not often, but more often than she’d like, she’d open her eyes and see Atlas. He never said anything, he just stood at the opposite wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed. Usually his jacket was on, but occasionally when it wasn’t she could see some of her old drawings peeking from exposed parts of the inside of his forearm. However, if his arm ever dropped it wasn’t schematics but simply her last plea to him, taunting her.

She didn’t want to start having too much hope they’d come for her. Atlas may have gotten her message and she did believe that no matter what had happened before he wouldn’t let her die. Not without doing something about it. But could they even find her? She had seen where Evander was taking her and  _she_ didn’t even know where she was. This couldn’t be the only Union prison, and it was heavily guarded to boot.

Only once did she ever speak to any of them. On one of Atlas’s rare visits, she told him, “Last time I thought I was going to die alone and you rescued me. I’m not sure if you can manage a repeat performance.”

“Don’t give up on us yet, kid,” he said. “We’re too stubborn to fail.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Now she spent almost all her time on her cot, drifting through various stages of consciousness. At this point she didn’t even make an attempt at getting up to get the tray shoved through the force field, already knowing her body would reject whatever she tried to put in it. She wondered if the guards noticed her state. Probably. Even if they hadn’t, someone must have. They just didn’t care.

Sighing quietly as she started to drift into darkness again, she barely noticed a warm hand on her cheek. She must really far gone it if she’s having tactile hallucinations now. But it did feel nice…

“ _Mmm_ ,” she murmured, using gravity to lean into it.

“Aggie.” The voice was distant but persistent. “Aggie!” It sounded a lot like Atlas.

“ _Nnngh_ ,” she mumbled, barely having the energy to remain conscious at this point.

She heard whoever it was curse a blue streak; it would have made her blush in other circumstances. 

Definitely Atlas then. 

She felt herself being picked up, cradled against something solid and warm. Wait…. She was moving! Her eyes cracked open, and she saw lopsided patches on a jacket, the wear on the leather too detailed for her muddled mind to come up with on its own.

 _Atlas. You’re really here…_  Her eyes slipped shut again, but she fought to keep conscious now, hope blooming in her chest.  _They found me!_

“She won’t wake up. You’re going to have to cover me.”

“I’ll take front. Jaxon, cover our backs.”

“Got it.”

Quietly, but quickly, they made their way through the maze of hallways, Aggie sensing the turns rather than seeing them. After a few minutes, she heard the sounds of crowds. They must have made it out.

Relief made her relax; she almost lost her grip on consciousness because of it, before being jolted by the sound of yelling.

“Shit!” Jaxon cursed.

Now she was bouncing, Atlas breathing hard from running and carrying her. There was the familiar sound of guns being charged and shot, though it sounded like the crew wasn’t taking any hits.

“Nova! We’ve got company. Get the Promise ready to take off the moment we board,” she heard Orion order.

Sounds of feet hitting pavement changed to feet hitting metal, and she heard the familiar sound of the Promise’s engine. It soothed her, even with the fact that there were Union soldiers right behind them. She knew they’d make it.

The moment she heard their feet hit the floor of the Promise, knowing they were safe, she finally lost the battle and slipped into deep, velvet darkness.


	9. When She Needed Him Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie wakes up and has to deal with the aftermath.

“Gah!” She woke up, her body jerking up into a sitting position. She hunched over, gasping for air. Her throat was sore, her voice hoarse as if she had been screaming for hours. She grimaced as she realized her mouth was coated in some weird salty-sweet substance.

“Aggie!” she heard someone cry out, before she was wrapped in a very aggressive hug. Numb, it took her several moments to piece together her surroundings. She was in her room. And…

“Jaxon?” she croaked.

He pulled away, but didn’t let go of her shoulders. “Atlas got your message,” he explained, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “He nearly broke the Promise with how fast he was trying to get to the Inner Systems. It took us a while to track you down, unfortunately, but we got you out.” He pulled her into a much gentler hug. “You’re safe now.”

 _Am I?_  But even that thought was practically outside her head. It was like her mind was floating right outside of her body, just hanging out and watching. Nothing felt real. Jaxon was touching her, she could feel the sheets underneath her fingertips, but it felt so distant and unreal.

He pulled away again. “Can you stay awake for a bit and eat something?” She nodded automatically. Could she? “All right, I’ll go get you something. The others will be glad to know you’re awake.”

“No one else,” she mumbled, as Jaxon propped up her pillows for her. “Not yet.”

“Ok,” he said, nodding. “Give me a minute.”

She settled back, flinching when she felt something brush by her hand unexpectedly. Her eyes darted down and she relaxed when she saw it was Comet. She let out a short, croaky hum as a way of a greeting, letting the small alien climb onto her lap. It sat down before lifting up its front paws to her face.

It was a cheerio. “Oh,” she said, taking it carefully. “Thank you, Comet,” she said, tentatively putting the offering into her mouth. The nausea came, but it was milder than before and she managed to chew and swallow. The slight amount of alertness she had managed while Jaxon was there receded and she stared absentmindedly at the wall opposite her bed while stroking Comet’s head when it prompted her.

She did register when Comet suddenly shifted to settle next to her, and she looked over to see Jaxon had returned with a bowl of… some sort of bland-looking paste. Even if she had any semblance of an appetite, this would have killed it.

“Nova said it would be good for you to start on this,” he said.

Eating was slow going, her hand trembling slightly with every spoonful, but she managed to get through it, though she had to stop every few bites to let her stomach settle again. While she ate, Jaxon filled her in on what she had missed after their daring rescue mission.

“We got there in a few hours, but it’s not like the Inner Systems are small,” he said. “Atlas had some ideas of where you would be, but it wasn’t as if we could just barge into every Union prison. After almost a week, though, he managed to contact a guy who owes him… not quite sure how many favors. I think he lost his soul to Atlas during a game of poker. Anyway, we got your location, then we had to plan our attack. You know, the usual…” His voice washed over her, eventually each word becoming indistinguishable from the next.

“Do you want to sleep?” he asked, once she was done, taking the bowl from her. She nodded. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, giving her a gentle, one-armed hug. Comet stayed curled up beside her, asleep and gently snoring. The lights turned off as Jaxon left. The clock emitted a small amount of light, which was good. The idea of being submerged in complete darkness unnerved her.

* * *

For a while, she tried to shut her eyes and sleep, but after so much time unconscious and finally keeping down a solid meal, her body was not ready for sleep. Or at least that was what she told herself was the reason.

She looked at the clock. It was an hour where no one else would be up. She could at least walk over to the lounge and sit there, maybe keep her hands busy by working on the jukebox again.

Slowly she got out of bed, leaning on the desk for support. She was unsteady at first, but after a bit of balancing she was able to stand on her feet unsupported, which was better than she expected. Slowly, but with increasing steadiness, she made her way over and out the door.

She paused on her way down the hall, seeing light under Atlas’s door. Without thinking, her feet brought her over and she knocked.

The rational part of her mind was wondering what the hell she was doing?! The other part didn’t have a good answer. Both were muffled by the overwhelming numbness that propelled her forward.

The door slid open, and she took a deep breath before stepping inside.

He was sitting on his bed, staring at something clutched between his hands. She shuffled over to sit beside him, and they both started at the closet in front of them. They didn’t speak, didn’t even acknowledge each other. They just sat there in silence for several minutes until Aggie finally spoke.

“Why did you come back for me?” she asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but not nearly as bad now.

He turned the object in his hand, and she finally noticed that it was a whiskey glass, empty. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been filled at all, pristine as a freshly-washed glass. Odd for him. If she had ever seen him with a tumbler, it either had something in it or he was pouring it in.

As he spoke, he continued to turn it over and over in his hands. “Do you honestly think I’m heartless enough to let you rot in prison?”

“Not really,” she mumbled.

He sighed, the glass stilling. “Now’s not the time, but when you’re stronger I’ll answer whatever questions you have.“

If she had been more alert, she might have been able to piece together more of what that sudden offer meant, but her mind was working at half capacity. Jaxon had already explained what had happened, what questions would she have for him?

“You should get some more sleep, Aggie,” he said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

It was his touch, somehow different to her than Jaxon’s hugs, that made everything crash into her at once. Everything that her mind had been keeping at bay since she woke up. Everything she was avoiding confronting in her dreams. She suddenly went from numb and in a hazy middle ground between consciousness and passing out to remembering every sensation, every emotion, every memory in excruciating, vivid detail.

“I almost died,” she whispered. If Atlas responded, she didn’t hear it. It was all too much, a thousand thoughts and emotions roiling inside. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep in choking sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks and past her fingers.

She felt Atlas’s gentle touch on her shoulder. She remembered the time she had broken down in Alex's car and craved that warm cocoon of security he had provided.

She flung herself into Atlas’s arms, a few seconds passing before he wrapped her into a tight hug, rubbing circles on her back as she bawled into his shirt. She sobbed, so violently she was almost screaming, all her trauma at the hand of Evander flooding her at once.

She was still hurt and angry, still unable to forgive him for what he had done to her. But right then it wasn’t about that. She had no strength left, emotionally or physically. She couldn’t handle this alone. She needed someone to hold her and make her feel safe, someone who understood even a fraction of what she was feeling. And he really did understand what she was feeling better than anyone else on this ship.

In that moment, he was the Atlas she had known from before, both of the men she knew finally melding into the real man, familiar and comforting, solid and strong. He was warm, his hug constricting in a calming way. He was a barrier from the terrors pressing in on her from all sides.

In that moment, she needed him. And he was there. 


	10. By Her Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie begins recovery and finally gets answers.

It was a few days after she had woken up before Aggie left her room for an extended period of time again. When she was around, the rest of the crew treated her normally and when she abruptly retreated to her room for whatever reason, no one said anything. She had never been more grateful that this was the crew she had managed to crash into all those months ago.

Atlas and she didn’t speak much. She had woken up in his bed the morning after she had broken down, surprised she hadn’t woken up from a nightmare (her reprieve didn’t last long, the next night she was back to screaming herself awake). He was nowhere in sight. She went to the lounge to find him alone except for Comet. He slid a bowl of cereal over the bar to her, which she quietly thanked him for and sat down to eat. Beyond that small exchange, barely a handful of words had passed between them.

She was working through her feelings, though having to simultaneously process her solitary confinement slowed it to a dead halt sometimes. Some of her anger had subsided, probably because she was now back on the Promise. It wasn’t as uncomfortable to be around Atlas, which made her feel confident she wasn’t going to leave again.

He had hurt her and that was not going to disappear, not for a long while, if it ever did. Whatever he had suffered didn’t justify what he had done, she knew that. He had broken her trust.

Was it worth trying to repair a relationship after that?

She debated asking for advice. Orion was out of the question entirely. She knew that he wouldn’t let his friendship with Atlas bias him, but he was the last person she wanted to approach with emotional matters. Jaxon she trusted with everything, but she had to admit he probably would be extremely biased. Nova… it was difficult to say. She wasn’t exactly a normal human. However, she would be fairly unbiased and she was learning more about the emotional aspect of humanity.

Well, she was the least likely to judge (or punch Atlas in the face) if nothing else, so Aggie found herself knocking on her door one afternoon.

“Come in,” she heard her call. She walked in to see Nova sitting on her bed, reading and listening to a podcast simultaneously. “Oh, Aggie, is everything all right?” she asked.

“Well…” Aggie shuffled a little from foot to foot. Was this the best option? Before she could second guess herself, she blurted out, “Can I ask you for some advice?”

Nova blinked rapidly for a moment, a rare moment of shock before her face was back to a gentle smile. “Of course,” she said, gesturing to the free end of her bed. “What is bothering you?”

“Did Atlas ever mention why I left?” she asked as she sat down.

Nova considered the question for a moment, then shook her head. “He did not. We all had ideas, especially Jaxon, but no evidence.”

Breathing in, she dove into the complete story. It was cathartic in a way. It helped her process things further, let out frustration she had been keeping inside, and helped her feel calmer.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she said as she finished.

Nova considered her for a long while before speaking. “I do not have a soulmate, so I do not think I can understand what you are feeling, but…” She paused, clearly thinking hard about what to say next. “Do you remember when you were angry with Jaxon for ruining your schematic for a navigation system?”

Aggie knew what incident she was referring to. She had she had devoted over a thousand hours to that design when Jaxon mimed spilling water on her. The problem had been when he actually managed to spill water on her tablet and frying it, all her data gone in the blink of an eye. She had been so furious with him she refused to speak to him for over a week. “Of course.”

“Why did you forgive him?”

“Because it wasn’t worth losing his friendship,” she said without hesitation. “Sure, I was angry and it was frustrating to have to redesign the entire thing from scratch, but in the end I forgave him.” She shrugged. “He’s too important to me to lose, especially for something like ruining a design.”

“What about Atlas? Is this worth losing his friendship?” If it were anyone else, Aggie would think they were trying to prompt her, make her feel like she really ought to work things out with him. But with Nova, she felt the woman was legitimately curious about her answer.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m not sure, Nova,” she said. “But that helped, thank you.” It did give her a focus if nothing else. At least she was closer to her answer than fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling brightly. “I hope you will find an answer soon.”

“Me too,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye, Aggie,” she said before returning to her book.

Aggie took in a deep breath as the door slid shut behind her. It hadn’t fixed everything, but she was able to walk back to her room feeling just a little bit lighter.

The next day was one of her better days. Nothing had triggered a flashback so far, she had gotten a decent amount of sleep for once, and she actually felt like she could relax in security, her brain not persistently paranoid for the moment. She even spent some time with Comet in the lounge, her back to the door. Tomorrow would probably look very different, she knew that, but she would appreciate it while it lasted. It was progress.

Later that day, when everyone was doing their own thing, Aggie finally felt ready to talk to Atlas. She knew she couldn’t risk waiting and losing her window of cool, so she seized the moment and went over to his room.

Breathing in deep, she knocked her signature quiet knock on Atlas’s door. As usual, he said nothing before opening his door.

Walking in, she saw him sitting at his desk, tinkering with some sort of antique bit of technology. She went to his bed, crossing her legs and leaning forward to rest her arms on her thighs. He turned to her, but said nothing.

“You said you’d answer my questions,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Any question.”

“Yes.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, loose for a change. “Why did you do it?” The same question she had asked before, but she knew that this time his answer would be different.

He also sighed, pushing a hand through his own hair. “That mission….” His jaw clenched. “I saw my entire team get blown to pieces. I nearly died myself, but I didn’t.” He took something off his shelf and handed it to her. It was a plaque. “I was their leader. Their deaths are on me. And they gave me a bloody award for it,” he scoffed. “For a while, I stayed away because I couldn’t explain and couldn’t bring myself to lie and pretend that everything was fine.

“I was a coward.” He said it matter-of-factly. “It became easier to stay silent, rather than finally explain myself.”

Slowly, cautiously, Aggie nodded. “Ok…” She was struggling to find words, any words to respond to that confession.

“That was why I did it, for the most part,” he continued.

“What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair again, mussing it further and causing the strands to flop every which way. “I’m not trying to justify what I did or that it was right to think this, but part of me did believe you were better off without me. You deserved better company than I could be.”

“Why’d you think that?” She remembered his attempts to keep her at arm's length, especially early on. Friendly enough after a while, but a wall still there nonetheless.

He gave her a look. “Do you really need to ask?”

“No,” she admitted. She decided maybe there were some things between them better left unsaid. “But…” She sighed, grasping for something to say. “What do we do now? I’m not leaving again and we can’t go on like this. Something needs to change, Atlas.”

He nodded. “I know.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This is what she had come to do. Answers, then an olive branch. “I’m willing to… try. Again. Not start over, I mean. But… try. That’s my part.” _Eloquently put, Aggie._

But he nodded, understanding what she meant. “I would like that.” The gentleness in his voice wasn’t something she had never heard before, but it was rare enough to still give her a little shock.

“Things have to change, Atlas,” she said.

“And by that you mean I have to change,” he corrected.

She shrugged. “I’m not the one that brought us to this, Atlas,” she said quietly. “And if something doesn’t change we’re going to end up right back here again.“

He nodded.

“I can’t tell you how to do that,” she continued. “But… working through what happened eight years ago might be a good place to start.”

He nodded again. Looking at his face, she was pretty sure this was the closest she had ever seen him to tears before. A bit too bright to be dry.

“Ok,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She leaned forward, holding out both her hands. “Let’s try again.”

Moving forward wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t just Aggie trying to forgive Atlas. It was Atlas learning to forgive himself. She knew that the future ahead would be difficult for both of them, her journey long and painful, his no less painful and even longer. She knew that wherever things went, they could never go back to the way they were before.

As he took her hands their eyes met, her’s determined and his almost starting to hope. No, they could never be exactly the same, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t figure this out.

They had a chance to get to a new normal and Aggie believed they would find their way. What it would look like, neither of them could know. But it was something they would find out together.

This time, she didn’t need him, but she wanted him by her side.

This time, he was there, and she had faith that that is where he would remain as long as she asked him to.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years later, quite a lot has changed...

This morning, Aggie was up before Atlas. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw her sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee, Comet hugging her rather large belly. Ever since it had sniffed out that she was pregnant, it was practically fused to her side.

Since no one else was around, he went over and gave his wife a quick good morning kiss before going over to get himself some breakfast. She wrinkled her nose. “ _Eurgh_ , morning breath.”

“You’re hardly minty fresh yourself, sunshine,” he said. She stuck her tongue out at him in response. “Eggs sound good to you?”

She considered it for a moment. “Over easy, please?”

“I think I can do that.”

While those were cooking, he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She stared at the wall, resting her head on one hand and stroking Comet absentmindedly with the other. He noticed that her back was to the door and there was no tremor in her hand.

“Today’s a good day?” he asked.

“So far,” she said, giving him a small smile before returning to staring at the wall. After over seven years together, he knew what kind of a look that was. She was thinking too much.

After plating their eggs, he came over to sit down next to her, sliding her eggs over. “Talk to me?” he asked.

She sighed, shoveling half an egg into her mouth. “I’m just in my head,” she said, shrugging.

“I could tell,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”

Her hand instinctively went to her stomach. “Just the same thing I’ve been thinking about for the past seven months.”

He remembered when Nova broke the news to them. He had taken it fairly well. Being bounty hunters on a ship wasn’t an ideal situation to raise a kid and there would have to be some adjustments made, but it wasn’t the worst either. Orion wasn't thrilled, but had come around quickly enough. Jaxon considered himself to already be Aggie’s brother, so he was probably the most excited for them to arrive.

Aggie did not take it well at all. She nearly fainted before he managed to get her to stop hyperventilating, she cried for two hours, and then passed out on their bed while clinging to him for dear life.

Slowly she began to adjust to the idea and weeks later when she was calmer, they had a very long discussion about their plan for the future. It was obvious that it was tearing her up inside, the war between wanting to be a mother and the fear that she wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“It’s just…” She had struggled to find the words. “I don’t want - I don’t want _this_ … to- to  _control_ my life. I don’t want it to stop me from being a mother, because I want that. But I also don’t want to screw up this kid! Argh!” she growled, slumping over onto her side. She looked miserable.

He had laid down so that he was facing her, then gathered her into his arms. “You don’t need to decide right now,” he said. “And I’ll support whatever you choose.”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips and caressed his cheek with her hand. “I love you,” she said, before kissing him again, deeper. When she pulled back, her eyes were blazing with determination. “Let’s do this.”

Finally making a decision didn’t mean Aggie suddenly stopped worrying about it. And he had to admit she wasn’t wrong to. They had both improved over time, but Aggie still had a lot of bad days, days where she couldn’t be around anyone or couldn’t be touched without shuddering and ripping their hand away. He struggled to help her through it because her responses were so different from how he was, even when he had been much worse. They both knew that wasn’t very compatible with being a mother.

He stayed quiet, letting her get it out. “Sometimes I think I can do it,” she said, rubbing her temple. “Sometimes I’m sure I can’t.”

“You won’t be doing it alone,” he said, taking her hand and rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. “I’m here, and so is the rest of the crew.”

“I’m still their mother,” she said, shaking her head. “What kind of mother hides from her own child?”

“And you’re still not doing this alone,” he said, resting a hand over the one that was resting on top of her very large bump. “We’ll manage. It will take a lot of adjusting, yes, but that’s why there’s two of us. What, you think I’m not going to help raise my own kid?” She laughed at his grumpy scowl, knowing it was all for show. “Besides, I bet you could shove them at Jaxon at any time and he’d be more than happy to corrupt them.”

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t joke about that!” she said, though she was still chuckling. Scooting over, she rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his arm. “Thank you,” she said.

He brushed a kiss above her hairline. “Anytime.”

Almost two decades ago, Atlas had figured the universe had just made a mistake in giving him a soulmate. Now, with his wife cuddled up to his side, a green cotton ball squished between them and purring contentedly, he had to give it some credit. Maybe it hadn’t done such a bad job after all.


End file.
